


New Angel

by Iloveeating



Series: Heartbreak Weather [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels Are Known, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Praying Sam Winchester, Praying to Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iloveeating/pseuds/Iloveeating
Summary: Sam is officially worried.Not that Dean hasn't always been a little of a player, but when two of Dean's latest conquest make a scene during lunch, Sam's had enough. But ever since Lisa, Dean just won't listen, and Sam's about one stranger away from locking him up in the basement.Before resorting to a crime, however, Sam has one more thing to do. Something he hasn't done since he was a child. He doesn't want to, he really doesn't, not since what happened last time, but he doesn't see any other way out.Sam prays.So it happens he prays on a Thursday.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Heartbreak Weather [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684381
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. To Any Dicks With Their Ears Open, Here's Sammy Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short story based on Niall Horan's song titled New Angel.

Spending time with his brother had never been a nuisance, until now. 

Sam can't even bring himself to be surprised at this turn of events, not after the endless parade of men and women his brother had been picking up at the Roadhouse since Lisa had left him. Still, he was shocked enough to be stuck to the booth watching the scene unfold in front of him. 

"Listen, Candy," he heard Dean's voice. He winced. _Candy, Dean?_ he thought to himself, _Really?_ "Brittany," his brother continued, looking at the other blonde. 

_What was with him and blondes lately anyway?_ Sam wondered, _He usually goes for brunettes_.

"It's Brigitte," not-Brittany corrected him, fuming. 

"Right," Dean said, "I didn't mean to hurt anybody's feelings here, but I thought I was clear on what we expected from each other."

"I don't care that you didn't call, asshole," Candy interrupted him, "I care that you slept with my baby sister the night after sleeping with me!" 

"S-Sisters?" Dean stuttered, and Sam had to cover his mouth to prevent himself from laughing, "I didn't know!"

"I told you her name," Brigitte jumped in, shooting him a glare, "How many people named Candy do you know in Lawrence?"

"W-Well," Dean tried to speak. Before he could get another word in, however, Sam saw both sisters approach like bulls chasing red. He so desperately wanted to keep his eyes open to watch it all happen but he couldn't help but flinch at the sound of a hand meeting a face. 

_Wham!_

"Hey!" his brother started but was interrupted by a second slap. 

_Auch_ , Sam thought, _That's gonna leave a mark_.

He watched as the ladies walked away and his brother fell down into their booth, his face bright red. "I didn't know lunch with you meant we'd be having a show," Sam mocked him. 

"Shut up," Dean snapped at him, "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam replied to the easy banter. He took a deep breath, a dark expression taking over his face, and spoke. "Dean," he started. 

"Don't wanna hear it, Sammy," Dean interrupted him before he could get another word in. Sam frowned. 

"Well, you have to hear it from somewhere since you've been ignoring Ellen, Bobby, Jo," Sam continued, "Benny."

"Wow," Dean scoffed, "If I had known all it took for you and Benny to talk was for me to sleep around, I would've done it earlier."

"This isn't just sleeping around," Sam barked, "This is you racing to see what STD you catch first."

"No glove, no love, Sammy," Dean smirked. 

"This isn't funny, Dean," Sam said, "We all understand you're hurt..."

"Sam," Dean warned him, but Sam continued on anyway. His brother needed to hear this. 

"But you can't keep bringing strangers home like this," he said, "You're not twenty anymore. Do you think this is what Lisa wanted?"

"Well, I really don't give a damn what she wanted, Sam, since she's the one who left," Dean growled. 

Sam was quiet, realizing his mistake. He sighed, "We're worried."

"Yeah," Dean rolled his eyes, "Don't be. I'm living the life." He stood up, pulling a couple of bills out of his wallet and dropping them on the table. "I'll see you at home," Dean said before walking away, he stopped after a couple of steps and turned, "Actually, don't wait up," he smirked bitterly, leaving the restaurant. 

Sam sighed. _That went well_ , he thought to himself. 

"At least it wasn't worse than when mom tried," the familiar voice said, sitting across him. He looked up from his hands, a small smile in his face, "Trust me, I wanted to shoot him myself after that one."

"What a relief," Sam said sarcastically.

"Don't get snappy with me," Jo warned him, "I'm not the one trying to sleep my way through all of Lawrence."

"I think he's going for all of Kansas, actually," Sam corrected her bitterly, "I don't know what else am I supposed to do."

"Lock him in Bobby's panic room," Jo suggested, standing up to get back to her shift. 

"Bobby's got a panic room?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"He had a weekend off, apparently," Jo replied, smiling. "Listen," Jo started before walking away, "He has a broken heart. Lisa really did a number on him. I think the only thing we can do at this point is pray he isn't too far gone."

Sam froze up, Jo's words repeating in his head. 

_Pray he isn't too far gone._

_No_ , he shot it down immediately. He couldn't do it again. Not after last time. 

_Pray he isn't too far gone._

_It won't help_ , he tried to convince himself, _They're sick things that don't care about us. There's no point_. 

_Pray he isn't..._

_Damn it_ , he fought against it, _They probably won't even care about something like this_. 

_Pray he..._

_Pray..._

**_Pray._ **

He looked up, tears welling up in his eyes. How could he even consider this, after what happened last time? And if he did it, and Dean found out... But what other choice did he have? Wait and see, like Jo said? He couldn't lose his brother, not to sickness or his brother's lapse of judgment. What if he really did get an STD? One of the bad ones? What if he went home with the wrong person? 

He took a deep breath. He was older. He was more experienced. He knew better. What happened last time wouldn't happen again. He just had to phrase it better. 

Shaking, he put his flat hands together and closed his eyes. This was it. His hail mary. 

_To the Heavenly Host, that hears all and helps all_ , he prayed, doing his best to keep the sarcasm out of his internal voice.

 _This is Sam Winchester calling. My brother, Dean, has a broken heart. I need somebody to heal it, so he can keep himself safe._

_I can't lose him_ , he added desperately, _I just can't. Please._

Up in the Heavenly Host, a warrior of heaven, the angel of tears, of temperance, of... Thursdays, heard the call to serve.


	2. The Thursday To Change All Thursdays

The Heavenly Host was on high alert. 

Then again, the Heavenly Host always felt like it was on high alert. Sometimes Castiel couldn't help but think his father had ingrained the panic in the nature of the Heavenly Host, before leaving for an extended vacation. 

It felt like a very him thing to do, sending the angels into a frenzy whenever more than one call came in at a time. Which happened, of course, almost on a daily basis. 

Well, God was never known for exemplary parenting, after all. 

It did seemed to Castiel that in the later decades, especially since the bombarding of the social media prayers, heaven had been in even more mayhem than usual. Prayers would go unanswered for longer, relevance was dictated by a few, and, more often than not, the causes Castiel felt really needed help, were overlooked. 

He was only a seraph, however, with no much political power in heaven to have an opinion. He wasn't like his brother Gabriel, who as an archangel, had final say in any and all prayers (not that he used it often). And he definitely wasn't like his brother Balthazar, who was a seraph like him, but had managed to scandal (if anybody could turn that into a verb, it was Balthazar) his way into importance. 

There was a thought, once, very fleeting, planted in his head by Hannah years ago when Michael and Raphael were found to be corrupting the Heavenly Host. But that had been ridiculous then, never mind now. 

The Thursday he decided to go on a flying trip, the Thursday he heard Samuel Winchester's prayer, was meant to be like any other. 

Usually, he'd sit in his cubicle (efficiency, Zachariah had preached those days. Castiel still resented him for it). He'd crunch in any prayers received in a time zone, leave it to his supervisors to assign people to them. That was his job. Very rarely, he'd be sent into a mission himself, once or twice every few millennia, when there was an overflow and it was a low-risk task. But that was unlikely, even in the busiest of days. 

This particular Thursday wasn't a busy one. There had been a woman who wanted for some jeans to fit her, a little girl who wanted a pet, a man who wanted to quit an addiction. There had also been a woman suffering from domestic abuse, asking for help with her kids. Castiel had been quick to send that one into the system, praying himself it'd get worked out in time. 

For reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, he was feeling awfully restless. His wings kept fluttering about, anxious to be moved to the earthly plane, longing to be spread and used. He struggled with it for most of the day, trying to pass the time. It hadn't been until Balthazar had stopped by for some idle chat, that he was finally pushed to go out and fly for a little while. 

Angels weren't forbidden from flying over the earth, it had been many years since the humans had gotten used to their presence and there was no need for hiding anymore. Regardless, there were some who still felt flying was a sacred angel activity, and should only be done at night, when their wings could be confused with the stars. 

Castiel was better at camouflaging than most, especially in the dark nights, as his wings were about as dark as quill ink. But even though the sun was still setting and his wings would be very visible in the afternoon sky, he couldn't restrain himself. Careful to grab some pen and paper in case he'd receive any prayers in his flight, knowing that if it was time-sensitive, he could fly back in a second, he set out to fly. 

The truth was, unlike most angels, Castiel longed to be free of it all. He had never wanted to be trapped in a cubicle just doing as his superiors wished him to, he wanted to be out there, flying as he pleased, helping as he could, getting to know the corners of the earth further than those Gabriel talked about. He simply wanted more. 

More than anything, he wanted to feel useful. He heard all those people praying, day in and day out, hoping for some change in their life, depending on bureaucrats and politicians of heaven who quite literally had an eternity to solve their issues. Castiel found it desperately discouraging, and couldn't ever blame those who lost their faith in the Heavenly Host because of it. 

Castiel, more than most, was very much aware as to the inefficient, cold, and seemingly uncaring nature of heaven. To think some were to be saved, while some where to be doomed, all by things that any angel could solve with a snap of his earthbound fingers. 

_Father works in mysterious ways_ , he often thought, _but no one ever said those ways were fair_. 

As he continued to fly, his wings happily open, stretching to their full length, he felt the familiar tug of a prayer, and proceeded to land in a nearby building to listen and write down the contents of it. He started to put pen to paper, when the tone of the prayer stopped him. 

_To the Heavenly Host, that hears all and helps all_ , he heard the man pray, though he seemed to be in extreme conflict over the decision. _This is Sam Winchester calling. My brother, Dean, has a broken heart. I need somebody to heal it, so he can keep himself safe._

_A broken heart,_ Castiel thought. He really had to be writing it down, in case he forgot, though that was nearly impossible, but there was something in the way the man spoke that had rendered Castiel unable to do his job. 

_I can't lose him_ , the man added, desperation recognizable, _I just can't. Please._

The prayer then ended, and Castiel was left there, alone in a terrace, watching over a city as it felt into the dark. Almost as if they had their own mind, his wings spread, ready to dive, and in what he would later think to be the start of his insanity, he took a step, and let them guide him away, pen and paper abandoned in the darkness of the city. 

_Samuel Winchester_ , he heard himself speak into the cold air of the night, _The Heavenly Host answers your call_. 

_Holy shit_ , he heard back immediately, _I mean, uh, thanks_. 

_I am Castiel, angel of temperance and tears, warrior of heavens, guardian of Thursdays_ , he continued as he had been trained. 

_Thursdays? That's... specific_ , Sam's voice answered back. 

_You require help with your brother's broken heart_ , Castiel said, some humour seeping into his voice, _It is in such matters we require more information on the subject_. 

_Isn't your kind all-knowing?_ Sam asked. 

_I have not walked among humans in half a century, Samuel_ , he replied dryly, truly not understanding why he was doing what he was doing. 

_Right_ , Sam said, _Well, I'll tell you what you need, if you promise something_.

 _If?_ Castiel wondered, _Do you not wish for your prayer to be fulfilled?_

_I do_ , Sam said rather carefully, _But last time I asked for an angel's help, my father died_. 

_I'm sorry_ , Castiel said, fully feeling it. It was always a tragedy when an angel is unable to save someone. Even celestial beings had their limits. 

You... Sam paused, _Never mind. Just, don't hurt my brother, understood?_

 _I promise, Samuel_ , Castiel provided, _I understand your hesitation. I need to know the nature of the causes for his broken heart, to start with_. 

_Oh, well, his girlfriend broke up with him_ , Sam started, _Kicked him out after a year together. He was never the kind to be with one for long, so this has him acting like a college boy, taking everyone and everything to bed._

 _What do you propose I do about such behavior?_ Castiel asked, honestly puzzled. 

_I just want him to stop sleeping around_ , Sam explained, _There are too many ways for a man like him to get hurt by doing such things. I want him to want better than that, to want better for himself_. 

_I see_ , Castiel replied, an idea forming on his mind. _Does your brother have a preference for partners?_

 _Well, he's been taking a lot of blondes home_ , Sam hummed, _Though if I was trying to pair him up, I'd go for a brunette_. 

_But surely if he's preferring blondes..._ Castiel reasoned. 

_No, trust me_ , Sam interrupted him, _Male or female, he won't care. But brunettes have always been the ones to drive him crazy_. 

_I do not see how someone who drives him into insanity will be helpful_ , Castiel added, _But I will follow your advice. I'll take care of your brother's broken heart_. 

_Thank you_ , Sam said softly, _Really, I don't usually pray but I appreciate the help nonetheless. I'm not sure why you would want to help, but thank you_. 

Speaking to himself now, he wondered, much like Sam did, why he wanted to help this man, enough to break the rules of heaven in the process. 

Scanning the earth, Castiel searched for what he needed to complete his mission. Or rather who. Not too long after, he found it. 

_Jimmy Novak_ , Castiel sent to his mind. 

_Ehhh, hi?_ the man answered, clearly confused. 

_I am Castiel, angel of temperance and tears, warrior of heavens, guardian of Thursdays_ , Castiel introduced himself for the second time that night. 

_Oh, man_ , Jimmy started, _I mean, angel, I mean._ The man paused taking a deep breath and organize his thoughts. _Castiel, angel of Thursdays. I am a servant of heaven. Ask and you shall receive_.

 _I need your body,_ Castiel said straightforwardly. 

_Wait what?_


	3. The Irresistible Factor In Dean Winchester's Future

Dean had always protected his brother. Ever since they were children, since their mother's death, their father's problems, he had been there for Sammy, no matter what. 

But now, Jesus, Dean wanted to punch him. 

How could he dare bring Lisa into this mess? Like he hadn't been hurt enough by her presence in his life already. 

_You're not it._

The words flashed back to his mind like white light in the pitch-black darkness, blinding him, leaving him flaring out to try and grasp something, anything, to hold on to. 

_I've been looking for The One. You're not it._

The One. Such a ridiculous concept. Like there was only one person in the whole world capable of making her happy. _He_ had made her happy. _He_ had been there, for a year, every time she needed him. _He_ had moved in when her roommate had left overnight, _he_ had been at the hospital when her father had gotten in his car accident, _he_ had held her night after night through pleasant dreams and scarring nightmares. 

_He_ was there. Where was The One she wanted so much? 

It kept him up at night, that first night without her. Who was this guy who was apparently so perfect for her that Dean wasn't enough? What did he have that Dean didn't? 

_You're not it._

He groaned against the car wheel. Why did Sammy have to bring her up? Slowly, he had started to be free of her. Sure, the bed at his brother's home still felt cold, now that he couldn't share Lisa's bed. And of course, he missed waking up to freshly brewed coffee in the morning with the buttery toast that only Lisa knew how to get just right (not too toasted but not too wet from butter either).

But he was no longer laying awake at night, thinking about this The One she wanted. He had stopped needing copious amounts of alcohol to fall asleep at night, and he was only suffering from nightmares every other night, instead of seeing his burning mother, Lisa in her place, every time he closed his eyes. 

Despite what the rest of his family thought, he was getting better. Before his brother reminded him what all of it was for, that is. 

Now, as he sat in his precious Baby, he was overcome with memories of her smile, her walk, her laugh, the way she just knew him in a way he had never experienced with anyone before. Not for the first time since he had left her apartment, Dean thought that there were simply too many seconds in the night. That had been his latest revelation from all these breakup feelings he hadn't experienced in years. Now that every second of every day was about her, now that every thought was wrapped around her, now that every time he closed his eyes she was in there running wild, regardless of whether he wanted her there or not...

Dean could only dream of the day it was all gone. 

And dreaming he did. That's why he was out there, wasn't it? He was out looking. Because somewhere out there, his The One had to be waiting. And if Lisa could have hers, why couldn't he? 

It started not too long after he moved back in with his brother. It had only been a fleeting thought then, but now, the idea of finding it was more and more appealing, if not necessary, to him. But every night, he'd go home with someone who would get his blood pumping, yet they'd barely come close to what it felt like with Lisa, not to think what being with his soulmate is supposed to feel like. 

_You're not trying very hard, are you?_ His mind provided. 

He groaned again. He knew what he was thinking about, of course. Out of all the people in the bars he had been going to, he seemed to only bring home blonde after blonde after blonde. It wasn't intentional, it really wasn't. But every time he even thought of a brunette, he thought about Lisa, and the last thing he wanted to do was think about her. 

The chances of his soulmate, his The One, being anything but a brunette were very slim though. He loved the human form, male or female, blonde or redhead, slim or not. But he couldn't deny that when he saw his future, his life had a brunette in his life. It was one of those irresistible things about his future he couldn't quite pin down, but knew simply was. 

He took a deep breath. All this thinking was leading nowhere, and he had always been a man of action. Straightening himself up, he drove away from the Roadhouse, and settled to look for a place to hunt for the night. 

It didn't take him long. If there was one thing the people in his town loved, it was drinking. He found a bar, the kind he knew he was bound to love, with a pool table, some tables, and a crowd like his own. He ordered a drink, sat at the bar, and proceeded to look around. 

It wasn't a bad lump of people. There were a couple of promising leads. A petite blonde girl on the other side of the bar, a redhead dude playing pool with some coupled friends, a nerdy-looking guy sitting in a table with a book. So far, the blonde girl seemed like the more sure option of the three. Dean settled to drink some more of his beer before approaching her. 

As he scanned the bar one more time, the main doors opened, as if blown wide by wind, and in walked the most beautiful human Dean had ever seen. Wearing a suit that hugged him in all the right places, with a Constatine-style trenchcoat, and hair that looked as if a hurricane brushed it every morning, Dean was surprised the whole world hadn't stopped spinning, just for this guy. 

Even from the distance, Dean was completely and utterly hypnotized by the eyes. He could see they were blue, like lightning and the ocean meeting for the first time, two giants of nature fighting for dominance in the blue. More remarkable than that, they were staring at him, not unlike the way he was staring back, with a hunger and a need and thirst to levels Dean hadn't experienced, not even with Lisa. 

The stray thought of her brought him back down to reality. No, time hadn't stopped, the world had kept on moving. But he hadn't. He just sat there, observing the guy, as the mystery man stared right back. Suddenly conscious of this, Dean turned back to the bar, to his abandoned drink, and drank a big gulp of it. A second later, the fabric of that trenchcoat patted his right arm, as the stranger took the seat next to him. 

Dean noted for the first time the stranger was a brunette, the first one in a long time to not send him back into a Lisa-related spiral. 

"Hello," the man spoke, sending barely contained shivers through all of Dean. _That voice_ , Dean thought, _Not even porn sounds that good_. 

"Hey," Dean said noncommittal, "Sup?"

"The sky, I suppose," the man replied, a small smile in his face. Dean had never found a five-o'clock shadow attractive, but now he couldn't see how he had lived his life without seeing it before. 

"Smartass, huh?" Dean commented, slightly turning towards the stranger, "Name's Dean." 

"Nice to meet you, Dean," the blue-eyed man said, "What brings you here?" 

"Looking to kill time," he answered, "Not a lot going on the city tonight. How about you?" 

"I'm here on a mission," the stranger replied. 

"Oh, yeah?" Dean hummed, "What kind of mission?" he shot him his trademark look, the one that had guaranteed him weeks of endless one-night stands. 

"You, I believe," the man said, fully turning towards Dean, blue eyes connecting with green. 

"Pretty good line there, buddy," Dean said, his throat suddenly dry, his focus completely taken by the confidence and power in those eyes. 

"I'm just practicing honesty, Dean," there was something sinful in the way his voice turned his name into such a desirable thing, a total crime how his lips wrapped around it like they had been speaking it since the Earth had begun. 

"Yea?" Dean leaned in, getting closer to the stranger. 

"I don't lie," the man said, closing the gap between their bodies. 

Dean was not one for public demonstrations of affection, especially those between strangers at a bar. However, there was nothing about this he'd ever take back. 

From the moment those unknown lips crashed against his, the moment this blue-eyed stranger laid a hand in him, he was lost. The man felt heavenly, and Dean couldn't help but give everything, all that was left of him, freely to this new distraction, this new angel that had come into his life. There was just so much feeling in the light, a touch to save him when he couldn't save himself, when he needed to be saved _from_ himself. 

It was better than any dream, it was something out of reach that Dean could have never imagined. It felt like an eternal struggle between two forces, good and evil, purity and sin, black and white, quiet and loud. Yet it also felt like balance, like there were no complications on the world, no wars, no inequality, no monstrosities. There was only green and blue, meeting by sheer coincidence and opportunity, overwhelming all other worldly things.

It was electricity. 

Dean wasn't sure what happened after, how it ended, or how it ended up outside his house, his car also there. But none of that mattered. There were only two things that his mind, heart, and soul were stuck on. 

One, the stranger was gone. 

Two, Dean would never rest, not even if he dropped dead, until he found his new angel.

He had to figure out where to start, though. He thought about the man, and thought he surely must've at least gotten a name. Except...

 _Oh, shit._


End file.
